a basis for everything

within this house,
we shut out the light,
the heat
Filled with our old air,
a darkness,
a coolness,
ensconces we inhabitants
the aversion,
ghostly humans
walking past each other
with ne'er a spoken word.
aching bodies and running noses'
the external fairy dust and
flowers
grass
and rich dirt
that toes sink into
like plush carpet, or quick sand
which will not take the ones who lie supine
but the ones who stand,
bipedal,
human,
yes, we'll keep going down,
keep going down.
and the farther we go,
the deeper it gets,
the faster we go,
like water draining out,
or rolling down a hill,
throwing up clouds of petals and of pollen
and insects
until we come to a rest at the base of everything,
a towering pillar of green
that we close out from our lives
with the blinds
turned
shut.

elegy to the spoken and unspoken word

if i do not say what i need to say,
when it need be said
what happens to the words, unspoken,
fallen soldiers, like the dead?

Floating out into some great void,
asking for directions, lost...
will they be of use some day,
or mould like spring in frost?

could it be that they are saved,
for some greater speech to come?-
or could they be unused forever,
the mouth eternal dumb.

And what of the words,
spoken like a fountain,
filling up the days of man,
with shadow like a mountain?

is there a landfill for such abuse,
to recycle it, make it better?
or does it sit like highway trash?-
O, bold, forgotten letter.

misgivings fraught with fear

because you should have this-
this beauty spilling forthing, brimming
drowning out the sorrow\memory is whited water
pushing us down
you don't ever forget this promise
you will never forget (my na)me
it's spilling over like dream turned nightmare
turned fantasy turned drawn reality
like sunlight and freedom
winding over smoothed pebbles
reflecting summers image
the grass let long to grow
the misgivings fraught with fear
abdulations
and you(')r(e) success.

the cherry tree

in the air i see surrounding me
all the lights reflecting
in this spring snow shower
the cherry trees shed the white
fluttering,
fleeting,
flying,
free.
and everything we choose to be
is questioned by the apathy,
the entropy.
i want to say that i am free
i want to be eternity.
the cherry tree,
it will turn green,
sepals, stamens, and carpals
turning red.
the seed
the flesh
the stem
the petioles
the blade
all these parts that make the tree
building up the bluest sky
the whitest petals
force us to see

there are somethings we cannot be

there are some sites we cannot see

and now and again we cannot agree

what it is we will save
or liberate
or designate,
set aside
pretend to be
i can't decide
what I should be
and what is this falling before me?
petals snow salt sugar lies
erasing the ground on which we stand
whiting out the new green land

the cherry petals are raining down
and the light is like blindness
for every solitary thing i see
there is a little more that i am missing.